


One more night

by thecannabiskid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: M/M, this one is lame and emotional too whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecannabiskid/pseuds/thecannabiskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot and Mr. Robot hang out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One more night

**Author's Note:**

> Netlfix and chill but instead of netflix it's sleep.

            Mr. Robot hasn’t left Elliot’s apartment since the incident yesterday. He’s real. The ache in his body, his ass to be specific, is very real. Mr. Robot, _naked_ , in his bed, real, very real. He’s warm. Elliot’s cold. Mr. Robot doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t complain when Elliot leans into him. He’s rubbing his fingers against his scruff. “Jesus, kid, let me sleep.” He groans, rolls onto his side, faces Elliot and Elliot kisses him.

            “You’re real,” he whispers.

            “Have you even slept?”

            “No.” Elliot breathes, eyes wide and Mr. Robot smiles.

            “You look crazy, kid, you need to sleep.” He likes the way Mr. Robot pulls him, moves his limbs so he’s slotted against his body. His dick pressed against his hip and Elliot presses his face into the others shoulder. Mr. Robot’s hand pets his hair slow, he yawns. “There ya go kiddo, sleep.” Elliot can do that. He can sleep.

            He has missed calls from Gideon. From Angela. A few texts from Lloyd and one from Ollie. He pictures him dead in the trunk of that car. Peaceful. No more _I want to be friends._ No more bothering him at work. All of these messages are old. Ten in the morning yesterday old. “ _Elliot I’ve…. Just seen the news and if you come into work I’ll be sending you straight home._ ” He had the day off. “ _Elliot, it’s Gideon again, take the week off, actually. Take care of yourself._ ” The week off. Fuck. “ _Elliot it’s Angela, let me know if you me to come over. We can smoke and watch your favorite movie,_ ” she’s choked up. This is hurting her just as much as it’s hurting him.

            “I’m going to break your phone,” Mr. Robot groans, Elliot jumps. “Sleep, Elliot, now. It hasn’t even been an hour.” He’s right. It hasn’t even been an hour. He puts his phone to the side. It’s barely two in the morning. April 15th. God they’ve been in bed since noon yesterday. “Now, Elliot. Turn it off.” Elliot does. Puts it on the dresser and Mr. Robot kisses him, he lets his eyes fall shut. He lets Mr. Robot kiss him until he falls asleep.

 

            He gets an hour of sleep. Wakes up to warm breath hitting his mouth and Mr. Robot is asleep; he’s close, really close. Elliot bumps his nose against the other mans. Kisses him, breathes slow through his nose and when he pulls back he opens his eyes. Mr. Robot is staring at him. “You’re not going to let me sleep, are you kid?” Elliot bites his bottom lip and locks eyes with him. “Jesus,” he murmurs and Elliot kisses him hard, whines softly when his lips are bitten and licked. He moves so he’s straddling Mr. Robot. “You wanna do this now?” Elliot nods.

            He puts two of his fingers in his mouth. Soaks them before he presses his chest to Mr. Robot’s. He teases his own entrance with his fingers, can feel Mr. Robot’s breathing stutter. He sinks two fingers into his ass, he doesn’t have much trouble. “Fu-fuck.”

            “Jesus Christ, kiddo,” Mr. Robot rasps, and Elliot’s pulling his fingers out, spitting on them and lubing himself up the best he can before he coats Mr. Robot’s dick.

            It’s unbelievably tight, he’s slow as he slides down, “good,” he’s breathless.

            “Didn’t prep well enough,” Mr. Robot grits out because the kids ass feels like a fucking _clamp_ on his cock and he’s fully seated a minute later. His voice is high, _breathy_ , he bounces a little, drags himself up Mr. Robot’s length before dropping back down.

            “Per-perfect,” he gasps, fucks down hard again and he’s grabbing for the others hands. Mr. Robot pinches one of Elliot’s nipples; the noise that leaves the younger is guttural and loud.

            “Shh, Elliot,” Elliot shakes his head. He needs to be loud. The sounds building in his chest slowly leaving his mouth.

            “Nee-need,” he lets out a stuttered gasp, whole body tensing up as he nails his prostate hard. “Ah-ah, _fuck_ ,” he drags out the word, trails higher towards the end and kill him if that isn’t the hottest noise to come out of the kid. He drags his ass up, drops down, hits that sweet spot again and his mouth hangs open on a moan, eyes constantly moving.

            “Elliot, your voice,” Mr. Robot warns, he’s panting. Elliot leans down with half lidded eyes and presses his tongue into Mr. Robot’s mouth. His tongue feels thick, wet, warm and he feels _everything._ He pulls back with a wet smack, eyes flicking back and forth.

            “Fl-flip me over,” he pants and Mr. Robot looks confused. “ _Rough_ , want it wan-want it rough.” He’s pulling off his dick, swallows hard and Mr. Robot flips him fast, has Elliot letting out a startled moan.

            “On your knees, ass up,” his voice is firm and when Elliot doesn’t move fast enough Mr. Robot is moving him. Hands tight on his hips as he drags him onto his knees and his cheeks are being spread and he feels the teasing press of his cock before Mr. Robot slams home.

            “Fuck,” Elliot cries, yanking at the sheets and the pace is brutal. Better than what he expected and there’s a hand in his hair, pulling his head back and he moans loud, mouth open and he lets out grunts with each thrust.

            “ _Good boy,_ this rough enough, Elliot?” He’s saying between gritted teeth, doesn’t expect an answer, and when he yanks hard on Elliot’s hair the kid almost screams in delight, actually does when his prostate is hit three times in quick succession and he swears the neighbors are pounding against the wall. Telling him to keep it the fuck down. He’s going to end up with a noise complaint. It’ll be worth it. He’s so close, God he’s mumbling too, makes choked off sounds and the hand in his hair lets go, strokes his cock once and he’s finished. Cums all over the sheets and Mr. Robot climaxes, he feels wet. He feels alive. He feels _exhausted._

            “Thank you,” he whines, _fuck_ , it took an emotional breakdown and rough sex for those words to finally leave his mouth. “Thank you,” he rolls onto his back when the other pulls out. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you,_ ” he can’t stop whispering the words. Mr. Robot pulls the top sheet off the bed. Elliot is still whispering thank you. He pulls him close, catches him in a kiss that ends up being more of them just breathing each other’s air, almost kisses that have them both making breathy noises. “Thank you,” he moans and Mr. Robot smiles, eyes closed and Elliot presses close to him.

 

            He doesn’t remember falling asleep but he hurts when he wakes up. It hurts to sit up, fuck, he lets out a groan and Mr. Robot hushes him softly. “Lie back kid,” he instructs and Elliot does, watches Mr. Robot get up and disappear into the bathroom. He’s back almost immediately. Painkillers. He takes several. “It’s almost six,” he murmurs and Elliot stretches out.  He’s half hard and he catches Mr. Robot staring, he watches him and the man doesn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest over being caught.

            “M’tired,” he yawns and Mr. Robot is pulling him close and Elliot likes this. Likes the way Mr. Robot can touch him without scaring him most times. He’s warm; Elliot’s been so cold since he found Shayla. A chill he can’t shake. It’s a cold that beats the cold the morphine gave him. He tucks his head under Mr. Robot’s chin, closes his eyes and yawns again.

            “I got ya kiddo, I’m right here.”

 

            “Was thinking we go out and eat,” it’s eleven, Elliot doesn’t feel like going anywhere, they’ve been lying in bed for the last hour in almost silence.  “You don’t exactly look fit for human consumption.” He kisses Elliot slow.

            “Fit for your consumption,” a smile plays at his lips and Mr. Robot laughs.

            “How do you feel?” And those big eyes lock onto his.

            “Tired,” he gets another kiss.

            “Think we should shower, clean the sheets and figure out what to feed you.” Elliot frowns. “We can’t stay in bed all day, kiddo.”

            “We could,” he whispers, “we could…. We could stay here,” he makes a face, swallows the growing lump in his throat. “No one can get hurt if I’m here.”

            “Elliot,” the hand on his face is warm, “kiddo,” his thumb catches the first tear but the rest slide along the side of his nose. “Let it out kid,” the sob that escapes Elliot’s lips has Mr. Robot holding him tightly. “Bad shit happens in the world, Elliot.”

            “She was so good,” he sobs, “it isn’t fair.”

            “I know kiddo,” he rubs his back, he can feel his spine. “But the world keeps going, Elliot.”

            “She gave me Qwerty,” he rubs his eyes. “She gave me Qwerty.”

            “It’s okay,” God he’s getting choked up, kisses the side of his face.

            “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay,”

            “N-no,” he can’t breathe, “not ok-okay,” Mr. Robot kisses him slow, lets his thumb dry up some of the tears on his face.

            “You’re going to be okay. People like us don’t get a choice, Elliot.”

            “Not fair,” he’s got his eyes closed. He hurts. He wants to disappear.

            “Need you to stay with me, Elliot, disappearing into your head will do you no good.” Elliot lets out a sob.

            “Don’t wanna be here,” Mr. Robot squishes Elliot’s face between his hands.

            “You stay here, Elliot.” He says firmly and Elliot squeezes his eyes shut.

 

            When he opens them, Mr. Robot isn’t there.

 

            “Told you I was getting lunch,” Mr. Robot isn’t gone long and he has Chinese food, Elliot rushes him, hugs onto him and Mr. Robot laughs. He got dressed while he was gone. Thank God. He didn’t want to fight him on it. The sweatshirt looks good, smells good, he must have washed it four times in a row. “Kiddo, I told you.”

            “Don’t remember,” he sobs and Mr. Robot is setting the food down.

            “I’m here now, Elliot, it’s okay,” Elliot clings to him, face pressed into his shirt, he’s never seen him like this before. “Kiddo, Elliot,” he murmurs, his eyes are wild. He kisses his trembling lips, can feel Elliot try to kiss him back. “Think you can eat?” He looks terrified. Mr. Robot gets him to sit on the couch, flips the TV on and Flipper jumps up and sits on his lap. Mr. Robot sits next to him, boxes of Chinese food in the bag and Elliot breathes hard through his mouth. “Let’s move Flipper, okay?” Flipper isn’t thrilled to be put on the floor, whines a little and sits at his feet.

            “Mak-make it stop.”

            “Make what stop, kiddo?” Elliot rubs his eyes, “Elliot, kid,” another sob, more tears. “You must be hungry,” he hands him a container of rice. “Gonna drown the food with those waterworks.” Elliot rubs his face again, sniffles a few times before taking a fork Mr. Robot offers him so he can eat. His hands hurt too bad to try and use chopsticks. Mr. Robot holds out an open container of sesame chicken. It’s good, he stabs into the box and Mr. Robot thumbs the tears that drip down his face while he eats.

            “S’good,” Elliot manages and Mr. Robot nods.

            “Yeah kid?” He murmurs and he rubs his back slow as he eats. He watches Elliot rub his eyes with the back of his hand as he chews and it’s like watching a child. He pulls him closer, Elliot leans into him. He’s real. It’s okay.

            He ends up on his back, on the couch, kissing Mr. Robot lazily once he’s had enough to eat and it’s good. It’s calm. His hands shake. “You feel like ice,” Elliot pulls him back down for another kiss. Silence. He likes Mr. Robot silent. His fingers feel numb. “Elliot,” his voice is a warning.

            “I’m okay.” He just wants to keep kissing him. No speaking.

            “You need to warm up,” Elliot bites at Mr. Robot’s jaw, gets a soft noise from the other.

            “Warm me up,” he manages a laugh and he gets a concerned look. He’s dragged to bed, the heater is turned on. He’s asleep before he can even try to fight.

           

            When he wakes up he showers. The sheets are changed and Mr. Robot is watching him get dressed. It’s late. He’s hungry. He follows Mr. Robot outside. Down streets and onto the subway, it’s almost nine.

            Mr. Robot is real. And he’s sitting across him at this dive bar. He just wants some fries. That sounds good. He can probably stomach that. He’s still tired. His hair is still damp. He doesn’t remember Mr. Robot ordering appletinis but he’s watching him. Elliot looks at the drink, slams it back and Mr. Robot shakes his head. Elliot tosses back the next one he orders as well. “Stop slamming back the God damned appletinis, kid, enjoy them.” He doesn’t want to enjoy them. He wants to be buzzed enough to coax Mr. Robot into fucking him in the bathroom. The waitress brings their fries, smiles at Elliot and he runs a hand through his hair.

            He’s pressing a fry into his mouth. Looks around slowly, he cleaned himself up in the shower, God it had been so hard to be quiet, he had bit his knuckles, hadn’t even touched his cock just kept hitting his prostate and he came in the shower. He’s not sure if he finished so fast because the thought of cumming with his cock untouched had been nice or knowing Mr. Robot was in the next room, would hear him if he had made a noise. Both, he thinks.

            He keeps locking eyes with Mr. Robot. The music is loud and the place is almost empty. “I’ll be back,” he whispers, walks towards the bathrooms and he feels a little panicked. Why’d he leave the house? He should go home and walk Flipper. Tell Mr. Robot to go back to his own place. Can he really be alone, though? _Should_ he be alone? Probably not. He splashes some water on his face.

            “Kiddo,” he jumps. “Not looking so hot,” Elliot swallows, dries his face with the sleeves of his jacket before crossing the room and kissing Mr. Robot. He doesn’t want to discuss how bad he looks. He knows. He doesn’t need to go home, he needs to feel good. Now. Right now.

            He’s pushed into a stall, pants dragged down and he braces himself against the tiles. His cheeks are spread and Mr. Robot hums. He hears the click of a cap and Mr. Robot is slicked and pressed against his entrance. No prep. Only stretch he has was from working himself open in the shower earlier. A hand covers his mouth and Mr. Robot isn’t gentle with him. Fucks into him roughly and Elliot wants to _scream_. Good. It’s good. It’s _great_ , he’s fucked. No one’s fucked him like this before. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whines, drags the word out and he licks at the fingers covering his mouth. The word fuck is frantic behind his eyelids whenever he blinks.

            “ _Filthy_ , Elliot,” and he’s right. This is filthy. The alley, that was dirty. This is _absolutely_ filthy. In an establishment. In a bathroom. Which is worse? Alley? Bathroom? Alley? Bathro- _oh_ , fuck. “There’s the spot,” Mr. Robot breathes, hits it again and Elliot is panting hot against his hand. “Going to move my hand,” his voice is a strangled whisper. “Do not make a sound.” Elliot bites his bottom lip hard when Mr. Robot’s hand is removed. It wraps around his cock, aims him towards the toilet bowl and he strokes him. Firm root to tip strokes that have him seeing stars before he even climaxes. “ _Good boy_ ,” and that does it. His cum splashes into the bowl and he feels the warmth of Mr. Robot’s orgasm.

            They pull apart as quickly as they came together, breathing each other’s air and Elliot is kissing him hard, pulls back to fix his pants and Mr. Robot does the same, finds composure quicker than Elliot and he’s going to pay the bill. Get them back to the apartment. Elliot splashes some water on his face. The thrill of what they’ve done is kicking in. Just like in the alley. Mr. Robot is back within two minutes. “Act sick,” he says and Elliot feigns sick as they leave and the second they get ten feet away Elliot is laughing. Fuck.

            “Was good,” he says and Mr. Robot looks like he’s on edge. He doesn’t speak. Elliot’s fingers trace on idea onto Mr. Robot’s palm while they take the train home. Does he want to hold his hand? He could. Wouldn’t be as weird as fucking in the diner bathroom. “Don’t think we should go back there.” The car is empty and he smiles.

            “Kid,” Elliot looks at him. Swallows hard.

            “Hmm?”

            “Gonna get you home, head back to my place.” Elliot’s heart drops. He doesn’t want to be alone. He doesn’t think he can handle being alone.

            “No,” he chokes out. “No, please,” he feels like he’s choking. He’s grabbing at Mr. Robot. “Please stay,” the train is stopping. This is their stop.

            “One more night.” He says. _One more night._ He nods. Follows him back to the apartment. One more night. _Just one._

            They drink, Elliot doesn’t care for it but his body is humming and Mr. Robot is in his bed, keeps kissing him, keeps pulling every word he wants to say from his mouth. They need to clean up, he’s sticky from the diner and Mr. Robot offers to help him. He isn’t steady on his feet. “One of these split open.” There’s a trickle of blood on his leg, mostly dry now. Mr. Robot is on his knees in front of him. He swallows hard. His body tingles. He shouldn’t have had anything to drink.

            “Sorry?” Mr. Robot had been speaking. Fuck.

            They shower, Elliot is claustrophobic, doesn’t stay in longer than he needs to but Mr. Robot enjoys the water. “Go put some pajamas on,” he says and Elliot nods, stands outside the shower in a towel. “Now, Elliot,” his tone is firm and it gets him moving. He puts Mr. Robot’s clothes and his own into the washer.

            He’s getting into bed when Mr. Robot gets out of the shower. He’s only half awake when Mr. Robot is dried off, sliding naked into his bed. “Put our clothes into the washer.” Elliot yawns, presses against Mr. Robot and he smells like his soap. Elliot can’t stop smiling. He has to get him to stay longer.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this took so long to post I'm working on like three other Robot fics.


End file.
